


Unforeseen Medical Condition

by superbaturalross



Category: Batman - All Media Types, DC Animated Universe, DC Extended Universe, DCU (Comics), Justice League - All Media Types, Superman - All Media Types
Genre: Alpha Clark Kent, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Anal Sex, Implied Knotting, Knotting, M/M, Mpreg, Omega Bruce Wayne, Oral Sex, Pregnant Bruce Wayne, References to Knotting, SO MUCH FLUFF, SuperBat, blink and you miss it halbarry, slightly possessive clark, tired mama bat bruce wayne
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-15
Updated: 2018-08-15
Packaged: 2019-06-27 14:17:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,926
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15687096
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/superbaturalross/pseuds/superbaturalross
Summary: “Don’t you get it?” Clark asks,  cupping Bruce’s cheek in his hand and leaning down to nuzzle at the spot where their bond mark is. “My world is gone. No, Bruce it’s not you--it’s--” his hand drifts down to Bruce’s stomach, finding the clasp on his armor and deftly undoing it before he slides his hand over the under armor layer over the barely perceptible swell of his belly.He inhales sharply as his body lights up with arousal. And suddenly it becomes very hard, literally, to remain angry with Clark.“What?” Bruce asks, his breath hitching slightly..“You are my world,” Clark says, his voice soft as he stares intently at Bruce’s chin, avoiding eye contact.





	Unforeseen Medical Condition

**Author's Note:**

> AAAAH. This is one of my first actual ships, and it's taken me almost 15 years to actually sit down and legit write a fic for them. And this may be the most porny thing I've ever written. (It's really not that porny, I just need to broaden my horizons)
> 
> A special shoutout to the folks at the superbat discord server who have been listening to me screeching about this fic over the past week. 
> 
> A special thank you to my alpha readers:  
> [TheRessurectionist](https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheResurrectionist/pseuds/TheResurrectionist)  
> [VoiceofDragons](https://archiveofourown.org/users/voiceofdragons/pseuds/voiceofdragons)  
> For reading and encouraging the little plot baby. 
> 
> And an extra special shoutout and thank you to my wives, my loves, my bestest friends and my support, thank you for betaing the fic, if it's readable, it's because you two made it so:  
> [SwiftEmera](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SwiftEmera/pseuds/SwiftEmera)  
> [FoxVII](https://archiveofourown.org/users/FoxVII/pseuds/FoxVII)  
> EDIT: So the amazing [lovelastart](http://lovelastart.tumblr.com/) drew some amazing art to accompany this fic. I'm so honored by the outpouring of support! I may make it into a series :D
> 
> come hang out with [me](https://suitsflash.tumblr.com) on tumblr!

* * *

Bruce

* * *

 

Bruce knows how to build an effective scent blocker. After all, he's been around enough aliens in his life to have made something that can confuse even the most alpha of alphas.

However, even after taking every precaution and testing on his very alpha mate--successfully managing to sneak up on him - Clark can’t keep away from Bruce during the Justice League meeting.

They’re both seated at the table and Bruce feels Clark’s leg pressed against his own and Clark’s hand settling on his thigh. He supposes that’s par for the course.

Before everyone’s settled, Bruce turns to Clark and murmurs into his ear, “I’m pregnant, not a priceless antique vase.”

The look Clark shoots him rivals that of any puppy and Bruce bites back a retort - especially since Hal has been none too steadily approaching them, his neck craned ever so slightly as he tries to not so subtly overhear. He does, however, shift so that they’re no longer physically in contact with each other.

While J’onn is briefing the rest of the league with the details of his last Martian mission, Bruce can feel the tension through his and Clark’s mating bond. His eyes flick down to his mate’s clenched fist on the table and his gaze shifts to Clark’s other hand. The pen he’s holding (the Mont Blanc Bruce gave him for his birthday) has practically molded to the shape of his fist.  
  
Making a judgement call, Bruce looks at Clark before he rips off his gauntlet and takes his hand. Scientifically speaking, skin-on-skin contact comforts the bonded pair. The contact provides reassurance that the omega is safe--present. Bruce had always taken it for granted that Clark could hear his heartbeat and know he was safe, but there is no real substitute for touch.

The bond immediately relaxes and Clark curls his fingers around Bruce’s, interlacing them together.  
  
After Hal sends a smirk Bruce’s way, and the glare is returned in kind, everyone is content to ignore this new development. Consequences be damned, a distracted Clark is one they cannot afford at the moment.

It’s time to decide who’s going on a fact-finding mission.

“I will go with J’onn,” he says. His gaze shifts to Clark and the horrified expression on his face, and Bruce realizes that if he’s on the mission, it’s already compromised.

Feeling the kind of humiliation he hadn’t felt since the day he presented as an omega, Bruce bites his lip. “Perhaps Diana.”

“Aw man, B, purposedfully opting out of a mission? That’s a new one for you,” Hal says, crossing his arms over his chest.

The glare that Bruce gives him is enough to make even Darkseid flinch.

When the meeting draws to a close, Barry intervenes as Hal is about make another comment, pulling him into a conversation with Diana.  
  
Clark stays on Bruce’s heels.

Bruce arches an eyebrow and Clark takes a step back, wringing his cape as he shifts from foot to foot.

“Um, I was hoping that maybe we could announce--” He glances down at Bruce’s stomach and then back up at Bruce.  
  
Turning to the rest of the league Bruce hesitates for a second before speaking up. “Due to an unforeseen medical condition, I will be keeping myself on the ground and off active duty for the next year.”

With that, he zetas down back into the caves, Clark following afterwards.

When Bruce says nothing, Clark huffs out a put upon sigh. “Wow, I’ve always dreamed of the day I could announce to the League that I’m having an unforeseen medical condition.” There’s a slight biting edge to his words accompanied by the teasing. It’s apparent to Bruce that Clark is hurt but he’s hurt too. Clark opens his mouth, about to speak again when Bruce shoves him against the cave wall, a growl in the base of his throat.

“I am not--” His body trembles in rage as he looks at Clark, a mixture of humiliation and betrayal in his eyes. “You swore to me that this wouldn’t change anything. That--that I wouldn’t just be an omega in distress--”

And Clark, being the infuriating measure of calm, doesn’t move. Instead, he lets Bruce manhandle him. He only lifts a hand to grip Bruce’s arm.

It only infuriates Bruce more. “I’m not weak,” he counters.

Clark shakes his head before he turns them both around, pressing Bruce back against the wall of the cave--a show of delicate but quiet strength.

Bruce’s breath hitches in the back of his throat and his eyes remain fixed on Clark’s. “Damn it Kent, I’m trying to save the world.”

“Don’t you get it?” Clark asks,  cupping Bruce’s cheek in his hand and leaning down to nuzzle at the spot where their bond mark is. “My world is gone. No, Bruce it’s not you--it’s--” his hand drifts down to Bruce’s stomach, finding the clasp on his armor and deftly undoing it before he slides his hand over the under armor layer over the barely perceptible swell of his belly.

He inhales sharply as his body lights up with arousal. And suddenly it becomes very hard, literally, to remain angry with Clark.

“What?” Bruce asks, his breath hitching slightly..

“You _are_ my world,” Clark says, his voice soft as he stares intently at Bruce’s chin, avoiding eye contact. “Krypton, my birth world--it’s gone. My people are dead--but you--” He removes the armor and tears Bruce’s shirt off like it’s a flimsy piece of paper. He makes quick work of the rest of his clothes, not letting Bruce help in any way. (He keeps the armor safe, of course, only destroying what he knows is easy for him to replace).

When Bruce is divested of his clothing, Clark kneels in front of him and kisses his belly before looking up at him, tears glittering in his eyes.

“You’re giving me my world back. If anything happened to either of you I--” He pauses, his eyes widening before he looks at Bruce’s stomach, his X-Ray vision settling upon the small bundle of cells, listening for the heartbeat that’ll indicate the first sounds of life. It’s not there yet, but god be damned if Clark’s wonder and joy isn’t the most beautiful thing Bruce has ever seen.

And it hits him. Clark isn’t doing this because of any perceived weakness on Bruce’s end. For someone who prides himself on his observation, Bruce realizes that he’s missed what was truly important to Clark.

He runs his fingers through Clark’s hair and tugs him back to his feet before pulling him into a fierce kiss, parting his lips so that he can taste more. He lifts a leg to wrap around his body, ande he feels Clark sliding a hand up his leg and gripping his thigh.

Bruce wraps the other one around him and lifts them both up, their lips never parting once.  
Clark smiles and a mischievous glint flashes through his eyes. He pushes off, lifting both of them off the ground. 

Bruce growls in response. He likes to pretend that he hates it when Clark lifts him--and he did at first - it’s a key way of removing his control. But being in Clark’s strong arms while pregnant with his child... it’s something that stirs a deep primitive feeling of safety. It lasts barely a few seconds, and then he’s landing both of them onto a cot in the back of the cave, normally used when Dr. Leslie Thompkins is scolding Bruce after his latest patrol.  
  
He looms over Bruce, and Bruce takes in the S emblazoned on his chest. Truly a beacon of hope. And Bruce is _happy._

There’s a submissive thrill Bruce gets out of being unclothed while Clark is still in his suit. It had initially been accompanied by panic, but as he grew to trust his mate, Bruce realized that he was Clark’s kryptonite--that Clark would never-- _could never_ actually hurt him. And that’s something he’s come to cherish about his mate.

He’s had so many doubts about their relationship. Often he’d voice them to Clark and would receive responses that were both ernest and mischievous in nature.

 _“I’m too old.”  
_ _“All rich men have trophy mates.”_

 _“What if I can’t give you a family”  
_ _“You already have”_

 _“I’m human.”  
_ _“Hi human, I’m Clark.”_

The last one had ended with Clark sleeping on the couch, but he’d woken up to Bruce curled up on his chest so, Bruce wouldn’t be surprised if Clark counted that in the win category.

Clark works his way down Bruce’s body, starting from the mating mark before he slowly laves his tongue around Bruce’s - now - more sensitive nipples. Bruce gasps, nerve endings he didn’t even know he had coming alight under Clark’s well-practiced tongue. With another hand, Clark brushes his fingers over Bruce’s other nipple, slowly caressing around it with his thumb until it hardens into a nub underneath his touch.

He sits up, leaning down over the other nipple and taking it into his mouth as he plays with the other one, running his fingertip over the saliva slicked areola.

The assault on his chest has Bruce almost coming right there, but he manages to hold off for now, albeit with great effort.

Part of the fun, at least for Clark, is to slowly take Bruce apart and to watch him relinquish control. Bruce wouldn’t trust this level of vulnerability with anyone else, but his trust for Clark extends beyond his trust for others.

Bruce’s head falls back against the pillow and his back arches off of the bed, pushing his chest more firmly into Clark’s mouth. Bruce’s dick is hard and leaking, pressed against his lower abdomen.

“T-take off your clothes,” Bruce says, voice gruff as he pulls Clark’s head away from his chest. He knows he could probably come like this, but he doesn’t want to. He doesn’t want it to end yet.

Clark disappears in a blur and reappears out of his suit and holding a bottle of lube, a smug expression on his face.

Bruce feels a small trail of slick leaking out of his secondary opening, something that is not out of place during a pregnancy. It opens during a heat and for the birth, but it doesn’t provide enough natural slick in-between that they can forgo the use of lube. He lifts his hips, spreading his legs wider to give Clark space to prep him.

He closes his eyes and feels the tip of Clark’s finger easing its way past his rim, and he relaxes around the intrusion. He begins to move slowly and carefully, opening him up with smooth, slick strokes.

As Bruce loosens up around him, Clark inserts another, and then a third as soon as he’s deemed ready, slowly pushing them apart and stretching Bruce out, groaning as he feels the tight ring of muscle give way with his ministrations.

Bruce knows that Clark understands he doesn’t just enjoy the pain, he lives and breathes off of it, so he keeps the prep quick to ensure that he doesn’t take away from Bruce’s pleasure. Conversely he also wants to make sure that he’s keeping his omega safe.

When he’s convinced that Bruce is prepared enough for him to still feel a burn edging on pain, he pulls out slowly, brushing his lips over inside of Bruce’s upper thigh.

Bruce feels the blunt end of Clark’s cock press up against his hole and he gasps, crying out as Clark slowly sinks in. When Bruce feels Clark’s pelvis against his buttocks as he bottoms out, he peers up at his mate through his lashes.

“Move Kent,” he orders and Clark happily obliges, the expression of blissful gratitude on his face more than Bruce can take without cracking a smile.

Initial slow, careful thrusts are soon followed by harder ones, one hand resting on Bruce’s hip and the other hand resting on his swollen abdomen. As Clark speeds up, Bruce realizes that this won’t last long, and a few seconds later, he comes with a sharp cry, spilling onto Clark’s chest and his own stomach.

After his knot catches, tying the two together, Clark rolls over and pulls Bruce onto his chest and Bruce’s normally tense feels more relaxed than ever. “I love you,” he murmurs.

“You too, Kent. Go to sleep.”  
  
Clark’s hand rests on Bruce’s belly, protective, and instead of shrugging him off, Bruce draws him closer.  


* * *

_Clark  
_

* * *

The next months pass by quickly. Clark attends a few Justice League meetings, and even though Bruce kept planting bugs onto Clark to keep himself informed, they were alway discovered.

“Then I’ll come to the next meeting,” Bruce says, pacing up and down the floor of the batcave. He’s wearing a looser fitting shirt, but otherwise is still not completely showing. The swell is evident when he sits down, but other than that, it’s barely apparent that he’s pregnant.

Clark crosses his arms over his chest, shaking his head, and Bruce relents, sending a pointed glare in Clark’s direction.  
  
“Damn you Kent,” Bruce murmurs,returning to his computer to monitoring Dick and Jason, who have been taking over patrols in Bruce’s absence.

The minute Bruce stops being able to button up his shirt, Clark’s libido increases exponentially and it’s very rare that the two can go twenty-four hours without having sex. Of course, Bruce being almost six months pregnant, doesn’t feel very sexy. He’s sore all the time, his back hurts, his face is bloated, he has to pee all the time. But when Clark looks at him like Bruce is a rare steak in the most exclusive Parisian Restaurant--Bruce can’t help but oblige.

As the pregnancy progresses, Clark comes home with a different rare plant every single day and a different article about workers rights that Perry’s deemed passable, all to try and impress the man who’s given him everything.

He knows his own sigil means hope, but he never knew that his own hope for everything including the continuation of his own race- would rest in a bat.

When they make love during the beginning of the third trimester and Bruce’s hair falls over his face, Clark stops what he’s doing to gently run his fingertips through it and slowly move it aside so that he can look into his eyes.

“You’re beautiful.”

“No.”

Bruce’s expression is a mixture of bemusement and outright shock. Clark knows that he thinks not beautiful--he’s scarred and broken in ways that can’t ever be fixed.

But Clark sees beyond that, and he kisses every inch of Bruce’s body to show it. He sees a man that has lost everything--a man that could give up and no one would ever judge him, but chooses every single day to be a better person--to give the world something he never had. Innocence.

And now he’s giving Clark a family.

Clark wonders how true beauty can be anything else, but he also knows that these phrases said aloud would result in his swift expulsion from the manor. So he makes sure to time his compliments for when Bruce is the most vulnerable, and then he proceeds to serve Bruce the only way he knows how.  
  
By taking him apart, bit by bit.  
  
He wraps his lips around Bruce’s cock and laves his tongue under the shaft, pressing the tip down on his frenulum before he circles the head of his cock,  and tastes the bitter saltiness of his precum as he slides his tongue over his slit.

With a glint of mischief in Clark’s eyes, he swallows Bruce down, vibrating the muscles in his throat in order to give Bruce a truly unique experience (he’s been practicing) and Bruce reacts with a loud cry that is so rarely heard from his normally silent demeanor.

But Clark considers any and all vocalizations a success.  
  
Swallowing down his release, Clark leans back on his heels and gazes at his pregnant mate, a warm feeling of possession washing over him. He trails his hand up Bruce’s leg, fingertips memorizing every single scar--every letter of the story that Bruce is openly sharing with him.

“You’re only partially right,” Bruce grumbles, attempting to sit up.

Clark only can answer with a tilt of his head before he stutters out a bewildered, “About?”

Bruce’s jaw clenches and he grits his teeth. “You’re not the only one who lost his family--I--” He pauses before looking away. “The thing is. You’re not the only one getting a family out of this. I’m not--just giving you a family. You’re giving--you’ve given me one too.”

Clark sees the rarest of smiles tug at the corners of Bruce’s mouth, but his eyes sparkle and Clark can’t help but push Bruce down to the bed, carefully positioning himself so that he doesn’t hurt the baby, and he brushes their lips together, his hands carding through Bruce’s hair, pulling gently at the strands.

When he manages to pry himself back, he looks up at Bruce and pulls him onto his lap so that they can make love face to face.

And though Bruce rolls his eyes at being manhandled, Clark knows that he loves it. Because Bruce trusts him, and he trusts Bruce.

 _“Thank you, my mate,”_ Clark whispers in Kryptonian that night, holding Bruce in his arms as he listens to the sound of their child’s heartbeat.

“ _You’re welcome my love,”_ Bruce responds.

And combined with their daughter’s heartbeat, it’s the most beautiful sound in the universe.

  
  



End file.
